


just so you could (take if off)

by griffxnblake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Romance, accidentally walking in on your platonic buddy, i don't even know how else to tag this bc it's basically just fluff, slight angst in there if you squint, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffxnblake/pseuds/griffxnblake
Summary: 4 times Bellamy accidentally walks in on Clarke changing + 1 time she walks in on himCanon-divergent, basically just little moments from throughout the series with a few changes just to make the plot work.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 141





	just so you could (take if off)

**Author's Note:**

> So this little plot bunny just sprung into my head earlier this week and all of a sudden it turned into this. It's basically just fluff. And sexual tension. And pay off. The kind that Jason should have delivered but once again here I am doing his job and fixing his mess. Also, this was written rather quickly so if there are any major continuity issues please just ignore :)
> 
> Beta'd once again by my dear and lovely [Sara](/users/softblakegriffin/profile)

_i._

Bellamy never gave much thought to things like this before but maybe he truly does just have bad timing.

It’s one thing to misjudge catching a door before it closes, or not making it inside right before it starts raining, but it turns out that it’s something completely different when he accidentally walks into Clarke’s room and she’s halfway out of changing her top.

It was an honest mistake, really. He had no intention to barge in on her during such a private moment, but he had just gotten an idea for the new cabins they were planning to build within their camp and her room is the first place he’d thought to look. And it was the middle of the day. Completely innocent.

“Clarke, hey, what do you think of—“

He had just barely opened the door before he’s frozen to the spot and Clarke jerks awkwardly trying to pull her shirt back down and bumping into her makeshift desk.

_“Bellamy! Get out!”_

He stumbles back as quickly as he can, slamming the door behind him and releasing the knob as if he’s been burned.

What the fuck.

This has to be some kind of fucked up nightmare with the intent of humiliating him as karma or something. He’s not sure what he’s done wrong lately but he knows there’s a long list of things from his past to pick on.

The worst of it all, though, is that it wasn’t a bad sight. Bellamy has been pretty aware that Clarke is attractive for some time now, though he’d never admit it to anyone else. With her crystal blue eyes and golden hair and soft features, how could he not notice? 

But, other than the occasional glance at her when she’s stretching her arms above her head or leaning her chin on her hand at dinner when she’s particularly tired, it’s not like he makes a habit out of ogling her or anything. No. She’s his friend. Possibly his best friend here on the ground. He respects her probably more than anyone else.

And yet, he’d be lying if he said he wasn't freaking out that he just saw Clarke’s bare stomach and a little bit of under boob.

_Goddamn it._

He’s still standing outside her door like an idiot a few minutes later when she cracks it open a bit and catches sight of him, her eyes wide and cheeks tinged pink.

“Oh. You’re still here,” she says softly, and Bellamy thinks she actually sounds nervous.

He swallows and nervously runs a hand through his hair. “Clarke, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize— I was just coming to tell you about...I should have knocked.”

She gives a slight nod but then offers a small sheepish smile. “It’s alright, Bellamy. It was an honest mistake. It happens.”

A long moment of silence stretches out between them and Bellamy isn’t exactly sure what to say now. Does he apologize again? Or just move on and pretend it didn’t happen? 

“...You didn’t see anything, did you?” she finally asks, not meeting his eyes.

“No! No, it honestly happened so fast. I swear,” he tells her, and even though he did see _a little bit_ he’s not going to make this more uncomfortable for her (and him) than it already is. A little white lie won’t hurt anyone, he tells himself.

And hell, maybe he only just imagined seeing the undersides of her breasts.

That seems to put her more at ease and she lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Good. Um, so what brings you here anyway?”

He quickly goes on to tell her about his plans for the new cabins, which she thankfully seems to agree with, but even by the time he leaves her quarters he still can’t shake the thought of Clarke’s body from his mind.

He is definitely going to hell.

————

_ii._

It happens again a few months later.

However, this time the world is ending and lists are being made along with more impossible choices, and they’re both just so _exhausted_. 

He writes her name on the list while she looks up at him with teary eyes and presses her cheek into his hand when he rests it comfortingly on her shoulder. He wishes he could do more, for her, for their people, for them. He would move mountains for his people if he could, but he would move the heavens and constellations if it meant he could lift some of the burdens off Clarke’s shoulders or give her some kind of peace.

They quietly part ways after that, agreeing to try to get some sleep, but Bellamy realizes halfway to his room that he’s forgotten his jacket in the office and he has guard duty at first light.

He assumed Clarke had left by now, but when he walks back in she’s folding her pants and placing them on one end of the couch against the wall before grabbing the blanket and starting to wrap it around herself.

She must hear him because she suddenly turns around, as if she’s been caught red handed committing a crime, and lets out a squeak. Her long legs are suddenly hidden from view as she quickly wraps the blanket around her waist.

“I-what are you doing here?” She asks, her voice unusually high. “I thought you were going to bed.”

He finally manages to clear his throat. “I was. I am, but I forgot my jacket,” he explains as he grabs it from the back of the desk chair. “What are you...are you sleeping here?”

She’s quiet as she sits down on the couch and nods. “I didn’t feel like going all the way back to my room at this hour. So I was just getting comfortable and, well…those pants are really uncomfortable to sleep in.”

He nods, understanding, but still thrown off from seeing her bare legs. Long, creamy legs that would feel great wrapped around—

He needs to stop.

“Right. Yeah, um, no worries,” he tells her shaking his head a little to hopefully clear his thoughts. God, he needed to get a grip. She’s just another girl. He’s seen women’s legs before. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“Sorry to startle you,” he adds before quickly turning around to leave the room. “Goodnight.”

He’s not sure if she responds, he just knows it’s probably best to get out of there in case he starts to embarrass himself more, before his half hard cock straining against his pants makes them both so uncomfortable that they don’t talk again for the remainder of their lives before the world ends. 

He’s not even sure he can sleep now that he’s seen Clarke in an intimate position not once but twice, now paired with the vision of her bare legs and plain underwear that isn’t sexy by any means but because _Clarke_ is wearing them, it’s a different story.

A shower. Yes. He just needs a shower and then he can get those thoughts out of his mind and down the drain where they belong.

——

_iii._

The next time it happens, Bellamy and Clarke and the rest of their small group are safely on the Ring but a certain feeling of dread and that catastrophe can happen at any moment still hangs around them as they adjust to their new routines.

Most things have been in decent working order, yet Raven spends her days making sure everything stays that way, along with Monty who plans how they are going to feed themselves for the next five years. Everyone else tries to find things to keep them busy, but after the first week or so, everyone seems pretty settled and is trying to come up with things to keep them occupied.

Bellamy doesn’t choose to stay in his family’s old quarters. It’s too painful and he doesn’t exactly see a reason to do so. His nights are already plagued with awful memories, racing thoughts and concerns, and he doesn’t need to be reminded of his first major failure. 

Clarke doesn’t choose to stay in her family’s old apartment either, and he can understand why. While their upbringings couldn’t have been more different, he knows how hard it is to be reminded of her family before everything unraveled the way it did. Just as he tries to outrun the ghosts and memories of his broken family, so does she.

Much to his comfort, her new room isn’t too far from his, and it helps to know she’s nearby when he’s been so close to losing her so many times now. The last time, as he agonizingly waited for her to return to him, still burns in his mind as the flames of Praimfaya scorched what was left of the earth.

So it’s one night in particular, where he can’t seem to relax his mind and tense muscles, that he ventures over to her door, hoping that maybe she’s still awake. As he hovers outside her room, he can see the faint glow of her lamp from under the door and thinks it’s a pretty safe bet that she’s awake. 

He knocks softly, hoping the echo doesn’t disturb anyone else nearby or startle her. He’s learned to knock by now, a fact that makes his face feel instantly warmer and probably makes Clarke a little more comfortable.

“Who’s there?” he can hear her ask softly from the other side of the door.

“It’s Bell,” he answers before quietly clearing his throat. “I mean, it’s Bellamy.”

She doesn’t answer right away and he wonders if maybe he’s not welcome, if she’s trying to think of a reason to tell him that she’s not in the mood to talk, such as going to sleep. So he’s a bit surprised when he finally hears a gentle “come in”.

He quietly walks inside, careful to not make any noise in closing the door behind him. It’s late and he doesn’t want to alarm anyone, or give them reason to gossip, he thinks bitterly. He knows Murphy lives for that kind of shit now, with nothing else to do.

“Hey, I—“

When he finally sees her, she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, a book in her lap. Her very bare and uncovered lap, as she sits there in only a sports bra and sleep shorts.

He stops short, his eyes wide as he takes her in, the soft glow of her lamp making her look even softer now, less burdened, less troubled.

She must see the shock on his face and gives him a nervous smile while reaching for her blanket. “Sorry. If you want, I can cover up. Sorry,” she adds again in a mumble when he fails to respond right away, suddenly looking mortified and self-conscious.

He finally comes to his senses and shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine. This is your room. You should be comfortable. I can go if you want,” he offers.

He can’t help but think she almost looks offended at that. “What? No, you just got here. I can change if it’s too weird.”

“No, it’s not weird,” he assures her, even though that little voice in his head is yelling otherwise. Well, not that it’s weird. It’s something else entirely.

“Oh. Okay. Um, so, is everything alright?”

He’s grateful for the change of subject, but he’s still struggling a bit to look at her. He’s only in a t-shirt and sweatpants, so if his body gets a little too excited she’s probably going to notice right away. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. _Fuck._

“Yeah. I just couldn’t sleep. And I saw your light was still on. Were you busy?”

She shakes her head, reaching for the small book beside her. “No, just relaxing and sketching a bit. It helps sometimes. And now we have more time, so…”

It warms him to know that she’s finally able to spend time on herself, to just be the teenage girl she still is deep down despite everything she’s been through. He remembers from the early days at the dropship how she would sketch little maps and diagrams of plants, and thinking how _good_ she was. He’s happy for her.

“Yeah. Definitely more time,” he says with a small smile, stealing a glance over at her and then quickly realizing it’s a mistake. 

Why did she have to be so fucking beautiful and perfect? And why was he so affected by it? He’s been around women, and he’s had threesomes, for fuck’s sake. But even the memories of _that_ didn’t get him as hard as the sight of a mostly undressed Clarke Griffin on a goddamn bed.

He needs to get a grip.

And preferably a freezing cold shower.

Again.

“You can stay and hang out if you want,” she offers. “I have a few books if you’re interested in reading any of them.”

She nods over toward the pile of books arranged on her desk, and he makes quick work of focusing on that instead, reading the titles to himself and trying to actively not think of Clarke. Or her legs. Or her chest. Or any of her exposed skin, really.

“Sure. You have some pretty good ones here.”

She gives him a tight smile and leans back in her bed, sketchbook propped on her legs. “Make yourself at home. My books are your books.”

A sudden wave of affection for her washes over him, and now he feels even worse for being so preoccupied with her body. This is _Clarke._ His best friend, the person he’s shared so much with in such a short amount of time and yet somehow feels like home. He never even thought that was something that was possible up until this past year. She’s his family now.

Now that the realization has dawned on him, he knows he can’t let anything jeopardize that. Especially his stupid fucking hormones with the worst timing ever.

“So they’re _our_ books?” he teases. She glances at him, raising a brow.

“Well, yeah. You’re welcome to anything and everything in this room, if you want.”

A beat.

He must have misheard her. Or misunderstood her. He must have imagined the slight change in her tone, because there is no way she could have possibly suggested a second meaning to that.

He’s rooted to the spot, his fingers freezing on the spine of one of the books. She must notice because suddenly she’s clearing her throat and focusing on her sketchbook once again, scribbling furiously.

“So yeah. Hope you find something interesting,” she mutters, despite the heavy tension filling the room.

Even in the soft golden glow of the lamp he thinks he can see her cheeks flush.

That’s...unexpected. But it’s enough to make his heart skip a beat.

They barely speak for the next hour or two after that, save for a few short words here and there. It’s not exactly the same companionable silence they’re familiar with, but Bellamy can’t help but think there’s some new element present now. Some new, almost exciting layer they haven’t had or explored before. Whatever it is, he can practically feel it buzzing underneath his skin.

When he wakes up the next morning, they’re both sprawled across her bed at different angles, each partially covered by her blanket.

Clarke is still sound asleep, her golden hair splayed out in every direction around her face as she has her part of the blanket tucked up under her chin.

He can’t remember the last time he slept so well or woke up feeling so peaceful.

———

_iv._

He supposes it takes a good couple of months to truly get comfortable in Sanctum after everything that happens with the Lightbournes and bringing Octavia safely home.

Although he’s not sure he even knows how to truly feel comfortable anymore, since the universe has been intent on throwing his world into chaos on a regular basis.

Clarke seems to be back to normal, as much as one could with the circumstances. However, she’s quieter now. He’s not sure if it’s because of Abby’s death or everything else, too. He’s tried talking to her about it, thinking maybe he can offer some sort of comfort and guidance about what it’s like to live without a mother, but she always says she’s fine save for a few bad days here and there. Clearly the two Griffin women had their fair share of issues but Abby was the last blood relative Clarke had, and she was still her mother at the end of the day.

Bellamy doesn’t like to think about how he would feel if he did truly end up losing Octavia and having no family left.

Speaking of the brunette, she seems to be adjusting to normal life as well. Without the stress and responsibilities of leading their people the way she did for six years, she almost looks like the young woman he knew before Praimfaya. Bellamy checks on her often since she decided it would be best to live alone for now, and they regularly have lunch or dinner together. It’s nice. Balanced. Something he’d wanted for years that now finally feels like he can have.

Jordan is the one that suggests maybe they all take a trip to the lake since the summer heat has been so unforgiving lately, and just about all of them agree without much convincing.

All except Clarke, who shows some hesitation at the idea.

“C’mon, Princess, the water will do you some good,” Bellamy tells her. “Unless you want to sit here and bake in the sun while everyone else is having a good time.”

“I don’t know…”

He’s standing in her doorway now, watching as she tries to decide what to do. With the Primes being gone, their people have managed to find a way to live in and around the village, and Clarke currently lives in her own little modest Sanctum-style home. It’s similar to the room above the tavern, but only slightly bigger in size. Clarke insisted on having a smaller living space, claiming it was all she needed.

“How about if I personally beg you to go?” he asks, a smirk on his lips. “You know I never beg anyone for anything, so it’s kind of a big deal.”

She huffs out a laugh, making Bellamy grin and she shifts back and forth on her feet. “I suppose that is a special occasion. But I don’t even have anything to wear to the lake.”

“You’re telling me Josephine didn’t have one bathing suit?”

The image of Clarke in a bathing suit suddenly barges into his thoughts and he needs to clear his throat to cover up the fact that it distracts him for a moment. Stupid fucking hormones again. He thought after six years he’d be over it.

“Maybe she did, but I obviously wasn’t looking for one, much less did I take one,” she retorts.

“Then just go in some underclothes, like when you would exercise on the Ring.”

She gives him a look, annoyed that he seems to have an answer for everything, but eventually she sighs in defeat and starts shooing him away. “Fine. Give me a minute to change and I’ll go.”

“Perfect,” he says brightly, feeling smug and accomplished that she didn’t manage to weasel out of this outing like so many others. 

“Or you can stay there, it doesn’t matter. You’ve seen it all before.”

Standing in the doorway, he feels his mouth suddenly go dry, and he’s glad Clarke has turned away from him so she can’t see his startled expression or flushed skin.

No, he hasn’t _seen it all before,_ as she put it.

He’s about to tell her as much when she’s suddenly pulling off her top, leaving her in her usual sports bra, and sits on the chair in the room to pull off her boots and pants.

He awkwardly looks down at the floor, pretending that it’s much more interesting, for the sake of at least trying to be a gentleman. 

Sure, he’s seen her in this type of outfit before – or rather a lack of one – during those years on the Ring, whether they were getting ready for bed or during a workout session, but it still takes him off guard every time. Sometimes, he could swear Clarke was doing it on purpose just to get a reaction out of him, but that couldn’t be the case. No, she’s just comfortable around him. That’s it.

She goes over to her small dresser where she pulls out a pair of athletic shorts she’d taken from Josephine’s wardrobe and pulls them on. She finally notices Bellamy just standing there and raises a brow.

“You okay?

He tries as hard as he can to only look at her face, giving a stiff nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Aren’t you going to change?”

“I-I’m going to change when we get to the lake. I don’t want to walk through town in just my swim shorts,” he explains, feeling the heat creep up onto his neck.

She shrugs and puts her clothes into her satchel, slips on her shoes and grabs a towel. “Fine. So are we ready to go?” she asks, her tone more clipped than before as she heads toward the door.

Odd. With a frown, he wonders what brought on that sudden change in her tone.

He doesn’t get to dwell on it too much, though, because they’re soon out of the door and headed toward the lake, the suns beating down on them.

———

_+1_

He truly never thought he’d be back here, the place he had considered to be home despite spending less than a year there.

But by some feat of science and will, or maybe just by some damn miracle, he’s once again stepping foot on the cool fresh earth, completely bathed in green in a way he hasn’t seen since before Praimfaya.

It’s surreal, honestly. He’s not even sure how he’s managed to survive this long, that someone like him, a lowly janitor from a disgraced family, has come this far. He’s gone across the universe and back and has seen more tragedies and phenomena than anyone should see in their lifetime. But he’s also found people that he’d protect with his life and move mountains and constellations for. He’s found a family. And now it seems as if he may finally have the chance to really live and enjoy that.

They have to start over from scratch, obviously. And while it’s exhausting to figure out how to make sure they all have food and a roof over their heads, he can’t help but find it a little comforting since it reminds him of the dropship days.

Except, the crucial difference this time is that he and Clarke are on the same page from the get-go. They’ve both been through so much and know what mistakes to avoid to ensure they get things right this time. 

Another crucial difference is also the fact that he’s certain he’s in love with her. But has he grown the spine he needs to actually tell her? Of course not. 

He tries to be rational about it, telling himself he’ll tell her when things calm down. When they finish building shelters. When they find a steady food source. When they finish the next project. It’s been months since they’ve returned to earth and he still hasn’t decided it’s a good time. He’s starting to think maybe it’s getting a little pathetic. 

How can he even be sure she feels the same? 

_Maybe the fact that she’s been looking at you like you put the sun and stars in the sky since you saved her from Josephine? Maybe the fact that she put everything aside to help you find and rescue your sister? Or maybe the fact that you’re always in each other’s personal space since you got here and touch and hug all the time?_

He pushes those thoughts away in case he goes and does something rash and reckless. As if he’s never done that before.

It’s a regular day when this particular incident happens. It’s just another usual morning and he’s already woken up and getting dressed to help with the hunting party, when he hears a shuffling outside his door and mere seconds later it flies open to show a frazzled Clarke with bright eyes.

“Bellamy, we need— _Fuck.”_

He’s standing there, shirt in hand and jaw hanging open in shock at the sudden arrival as well as hearing Clarke curse.

Her eyes rake over his bare torso, something flashing in them, and her fair skin suddenly flushes.

He’s not sure why she’s reacting this way; she’s seen him shirtless on the Ring. They’ve walked in on each other in different states of undress, as Bellamy painfully remembers. Clarke’s reaction reminds him of his own, except she’s actually managed to say it out loud.

“Need something, Princess?”

She blinks, but she still can’t seem to avert her gaze away from his body. He can see her swallow nervously, and he feels a tiny glimmer of hope surging inside him and maybe even arousal at seeing her this way. 

“I just—um. Need you. To help me with something,” she adds quickly, her insinuation making the room feel warmer and heavier between them. 

He can feel his heart racing now. _She needs him. Needs him how?_

He doesn’t continue dressing, curious about this new kind of reaction from Clarke. Maybe…

“You need me?”

She nods slightly, still looking a little nervous and yet she hasn’t stopped staring at him. He can’t help but smirk.

“Enjoying the view?” he teases, trying to hopefully make the situation feel a little lighter.

“Would it be weird if I said yes?”

It takes any and every witty reply right out of him, her honesty almost making his knees give out from under him and sending a rush of blood straight to his groin. His skin suddenly feels on fire.

Maybe this is some kind of dream. How many times has he dreamed about Clarke and this particular type of situation? Probably too many times to be considered healthy. It’s usually the other way around but this is still good; he’ll take it. Maybe the universe was finally giving him a chance? Giving _them_ a chance? 

He slowly walks over to her, keeping eye contact as he approaches her. He can practically feel his heartbeat in his ears and throat by this point, but maybe this is it.

This is what he’s been waiting for…he doesn’t even know how long, now.

She stays rooted to the spot, her eyes still bright, now flashing with her usual confidence but also anticipation and something else that looks to him like urgency. Something almost primal.

“What did you need, Clarke?”

They’re only inches apart by now and he can feel the tension between them like a thread just waiting to snap. But this is her call. Like always, he’s giving her a choice. 

She lets out a shaky gasp before she’s suddenly on her toes and reaching up to kiss him. He meets her halfway and can feel her arms wrap around his neck, taking the opportunity to put his hands on her hips and pull her closer.

Kissing Clarke is everything and nothing like he thought it would be. It’s something even greater than his mind could have come up with, as if he’s finally breathing for the first time in his life, like he’s truly doing what he was always meant to do.

He crowds her back against the door, pushing his hips into her when he feels her let out a gasp and a moan against his lips, and he knows that _that_ is the sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

They kiss like that for a few more minutes, before they start pulling away to catch their breaths. Bellamy takes it as an opportunity to kiss his way down her jaw, her neck, feeling his pride spike at the little moans she lets out and how she tries to push herself closer to him.

“Bellamy…”

“So good. So perfect, Clarke,” he murmurs against her skin. “You know how long I’ve been wanting to do this?”

She whimpers in pleasure when he kisses a particular spot and shakes her head. “How long?”

_“Years.”_

“Fuck,” she whimpers again and he pulls back to see her face, pressing his forehead to hers. He smirks and presses his lips to her temple.

“I’d love to.”

She playfully pushes against his arm and he chuckles before stealing another kiss. “Smooth.”

She finally finds proper footing again but he still keeps his hands on her hips, drawing little shapes on her shirt with his thumbs. “Well, I try.”

“Did you mean it?” She asks, sounding a little more nervous, her eyes searching his for any sort of doubt.

“Of course I did,” he replies with conviction. “I _do_ mean it. Do you?”

He suddenly feels terrified. What if she doesn’t feel the same? If she just got caught up in the moment? He’s not sure what he’ll do if it was just a one-time thing for her, if he’ll have to just try to pretend it isn’t a big deal to him.

She doesn’t answer right away, as if she’s trying to find the right words, and he thinks this is it, she’s going to let him down gently. Damn it.

“You’re my best friend,” she finally says, voice soft as she looks up at him. “And I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you. For everything,” she confesses, and he can’t help but hold his breath. “And it scares me a little. But I mean it. You’re it for me, Bellamy.”

It’s the best thing he’s ever heard and the only way he can show how unbelievably elated he is is to kiss her again, but this time gently cradling her face in his hands while he does it.

“If I had known being shirtless was the way to get you to crack I would have done it way more often.”

She grins and pushes against his chest but there’s no real force behind it. “Shut up. And if you felt that way, how come you never did anything when you saw me changing?”

“I was being a gentleman,” he argues, and now he’s thinking back to every instance where Clarke was wearing less clothes than normal, looking for hints she _wanted_ him to act.

“Well, thanks, but you didn’t have to be such a good one,” she teases and he lightly pinches her arm.

“Don't be such a gentleman. Noted.”

She grins and reaches up to kiss a path along his jaw toward his ear. “So, are you going to _help_ me or what? It’s still early. No one will look for us just yet,” she tells him, raising a brow.

“Clarke Griffin, are you suggesting something?”

Her grin is devilish. She pulls away from him but takes his hands in hers and leads him back toward his bed. 

“Maybe. What are you going to do about it, Blake?”

He grins and follows after her. “Whatever the hell you want.”

This time, when Clarke’s shirt comes off, Bellamy gets to finally do the honor himself. 

****


End file.
